Purgatory
by ShadowOfApate
Summary: The initative finds out that Willow is a Witch.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Purgatory   
  
Chapter: One/?   
  
Rating: PG-16   
  
Pairing: Willow/Buffy, Willow/Tara   
  
Spoilers: Everything and Anything   
  
Timeline: Before Adam came along.   
  
Beta Readers: Scotty ' the fox ' Welles   
  
  
  
Summary: The initiative becomes more than a mysterious force fighting   
  
evil.   
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine...yet.   
  
  
  
  
  
PROLOGUE   
  
  
  
  
  
She chanted softly, her hand glowing dangerously in the face of the   
  
vampire. It was a new spell, one she had never tried before; she   
  
considered the risk of failure at that moment but disregarded from her   
  
mind. She needed to try it out, and right now was the perfect time.   
  
  
  
A bright blob of light burst from her hand, reminding her of that X-Man   
  
that she used to like so much, Jubilee. The vampire screamed as the   
  
light enveloped him, turning him to dust within seconds. She smiled   
  
with relief and pride, humming to herself happily as she resumed her   
  
walk away from the deserted college courtyard.   
  
  
  
She paused as her heightened senses alerted her to the presence of   
  
someone else. Turning slowly, she scanned the tree lines, searching   
  
for whoever it was. Her hands moved a few inches from her sides, palms   
  
faced outward, and felt the subtle shift in her eyes as the power   
  
surged through her body. "Who's there?"   
  
  
  
The tall bulk stepped into the moonlight.   
  
  
  
She relaxed, letting her guard down. "Why are you wearing that? Is it   
  
a costume or something? Or maybe one of those sorority initiation   
  
thingies?" She tilted her head to the side as she studied the army   
  
fatigues the other man was wearing. "Those don't do anything for you.   
  
Oh goddess, I just channeled Cordy."   
  
  
  
She groaned softly; she loved the other woman dearly, and ever since   
  
she'd left the two of them had become close friends. Sometimes   
  
spending hours on the Internet just chatting, but she seriously did not   
  
want to end up talking like her. 'No offense, Cordy.'   
  
  
  
The tall man moved towards her in long strides, his hand reaching   
  
around to his belt for something. She snapped her attention back to   
  
him in time to see the taser in his hand.   
  
  
  
"Ril...!" She groaned as the dense electrical charge ran through her   
  
body, sending her into the darkness...   
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One   
  
  
  
  
  
A white light blinded her closed eyes as she drifted back to   
  
consciousness. Her head pounded in a steady, painful thumping, while   
  
her body simply ached. Voices surrounded her, talking over her as   
  
though she was a specimen. Pain pierced through her body suddenly,   
  
forcing her eyes to snap open in hopes of finding and stopping the   
  
source of it.   
  
  
  
Her eyes locked onto the dark eyes of one of her professors, a silent   
  
scream fighting against her throat as she caught sight of what was   
  
causing her so much pain. "...no..."   
  
  
  
Walsh ignored her strangled whisper, continuing to talk as though she   
  
wasn't human. "Hostile Number 63 is awake and responding to stimuli.   
  
DNA tests have already been started in order to determine the type of   
  
demon we are dealing with. Further tests are needed to figure out the   
  
full range of abilities and stamina."   
  
  
  
"...not...demon..."   
  
  
  
"Lieutenant, you may proceed with the tests."   
  
  
  
She closed her eyes against the pure white room. The sterile surgical   
  
steel tools reminded her too much of what she imagined a space ship was   
  
like. Grinding her teeth together, she waited for the pain to begin.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Where is she?"   
  
  
  
Tara swallowed hard at the steel in Buffy's eyes; everyone was beyond   
  
worried, and they weren't handling it well. She couldn't blame them,   
  
seeing as Willow had been missing for twenty-four hours already, with   
  
no clues as to where she was.   
  
  
  
Everyone had a role in the Scoobies. Xander was the one everyone   
  
depended on to keep things light and keep them sane. Buffy was the one   
  
who led everyone, and the main fighter. Anya was the one with twelve   
  
hundred years of knowledge that always unintentionally gave them some   
  
sort of edge over whatever baddie they were currently fighting. Giles   
  
was the parent figure, who protected everyone from whatever horrors   
  
made it harder on them. And Willow...   
  
  
  
Willow was the magic expert, the one everyone went to when they had a   
  
problem, the one that held them together with a quiet strength that she   
  
didn't seem to know she had. She was the best friend, their   
  
foundation, the lover, the researcher. Now, they were missing a key   
  
player in their lives, and were unsure how to proceed. In fact, the   
  
only thing they'd managed to agree on so far was that they were going   
  
to rip whoever had taken Willow from limb to limb and then feed them to   
  
Spike.   
  
  
  
Buffy spun around, eyes blazing dangerously. "Has anyone seen Spike?"   
  
  
  
"Fangless ran out earlier with his tail between his legs."   
  
  
  
The blonde Slayer narrowed her eyes, causing Xander to back away   
  
hurriedly. "If I find out that Spike had anything to do with this,   
  
then he's going to learn that Angelus isn't the only one capable of   
  
torture."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He stepped into the musty bookstore, his eyes and senses automatically   
  
searching for any threat to him, finding only the ancient woman busily   
  
skittering around the store. He inhaled the smell of mothballs, and   
  
broken-in leather. Books that had been considered extinct were bound   
  
on ceiling high bookshelves.   
  
  
  
Her plump legs moved rapidly as she waddled toward him. "William, what   
  
brings you to my humble abode this fine morning?"   
  
  
  
A slight blush colored his cheeks, a task that was almost impossible   
  
for a vampire. "I need information on a...friend."   
  
  
  
"Oh?"   
  
  
  
He nodded, smiling at the sight of her eyeing him over her   
  
silver-framed reading spectacles. "Yes, ma'am. She disappeared last   
  
night, and nobody seems to know anything about it."   
  
  
  
"I see, and was this friend a demon?"   
  
  
  
He found himself being shepherded to a chair. "No ma'am. A witch."   
  
  
  
"Hmm. And what is this friend's name?"   
  
  
  
"Willow Rosenburg."   
  
  
  
"Then let's see what we can find out."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She paced across the apartment once more, barely dodging Riley as he   
  
entered the room. His boyish smile made her tension increase instead   
  
of elevating it. All day she'd been getting a weird vibe off of him,   
  
and that was leaving her edgy. "Well?" she demanded.   
  
  
  
He sat on the couch and pulled her down next to him. "Nothing. No one   
  
saw anything last night."   
  
  
  
Again, the vibes were making it hard not to back away from her lover.   
  
Unable to stay still any longer, she got back to her feet.   
  
  
  
"I'm sure that she's..."   
  
  
  
"Bloody hell, Slayer, I've been looking all over for you!" a new voice   
  
interjected before Riley could answer.   
  
  
  
"Is it time for your walk already?" She studied the vampire, her   
  
'Spidey-Sense' going off dangerously.   
  
  
  
For once there was no superior sarcasm. The vampire that was staring   
  
her down knew something, something bad enough that it made him seem   
  
almost human. "We need to talk." He glanced over at Riley. "Alone."   
  
  
  
She nodded her consent, starting for the back bedroom.   
  
  
  
Riley bristled, resenting Spike's intrusion. "I don't think you   
  
should."   
  
  
  
She ignored Riley, unwilling to deal with him right then. Instead she   
  
glanced over her shoulder at Spike and snapped, "Are you coming or   
  
not?" Her gaze locked onto her lover as he moved to stop him, his   
  
entire body tensed and ready to spring at anytime. "Riley, can you go   
  
back to the dorm and get the bag I left in your room? Please?"   
  
  
  
The bigger man clenched his fists, looking from Spike to her to the   
  
door, but after a tense moment he left.   
  
  
  
Once alone, the vampire wasted no time. "It was the Initiative."   
  
  
  
Her legs went numb, unable to grasp the words that scared her the most.   
  
After Spike had escaped he'd given a complete description of what they   
  
did to him, the experiments...no, the torture that they said was   
  
experiments in the name of science. "Why? She's not a demon."   
  
  
  
"No, but she is a witch."   
  
  
  
"Oh god..."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Pain. Blinding, numbing, piercing pain. Engulfing, consuming,   
  
all-encompassing pain. Body, mind, heart, and soul ached, screamed,   
  
protested, and paralyzed her. Movement was impossible, talking   
  
improbable, thinking a black hole.   
  
  
  
She remembered. Every incision, every cut that they used to dissect   
  
her body, her needle and pin prick, every electrical probe they stuck   
  
into her muscles. She had pleaded, cried for some sort of painkiller   
  
or anesthesia. The man she'd known as a kind soul had simply blinked   
  
at her. 'Demon's don't get any.'   
  
  
  
'But I'm not a demon!' She didn't know if she'd said it out loud or   
  
not, the pain too much to do much of anything. She'd screamed at   
  
first, screamed to show them how human she was, screamed until Walsh   
  
had glared at her, screamed until her voice was nothing but a raspy   
  
breath that refused to work anymore.   
  
  
  
She swallowed with the dried cotton throat as she tried the strength of   
  
the straps holding her to the table again. Why were they doing this?   
  
She had never hurt anyone, at least not human. So why had they   
  
captured her like some criminal...?   
  
  
  
"Look," a quiet female voice was saying off to one side.   
  
  
  
She pried her swollen, bruised eyes open to see what Walsh was going on   
  
about. She could barely make out the computer, but nothing else.   
  
  
  
"Her DNA is almost completely human..."   
  
  
  
A male voice cut into her mumbles. "Almost?"   
  
  
  
"Watch. The last ten ladders are different. I've never seen anything   
  
like this before."   
  
  
  
Willow let her eyes slip back shut, filing the information away for   
  
later, much later. As in   
  
'when-I-get-out-of-here-and-kick-some-solider-ass' later.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Then let's go get her."   
  
  
  
Giles looked over his glasses at Xander, knowing exactly what he was   
  
feeling but common sense holding him back. "I'm afraid that's not a   
  
practical idea."   
  
  
  
"Why not?"   
  
  
  
"Do you have any idea how many soldiers hanging around in there? Hell,   
  
we'd need Red's help just to get past the security systems."   
  
  
  
Spike crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and scowled at it.   
  
"Great, so we're just going to leave her in there and let them do   
  
god-knows-what to her?"   
  
  
  
Xander's face turned into a dark cloud as he glared at everybody. "If   
  
it was one of us in there she'd already have us out, no matter how   
  
dangerous."   
  
  
  
"That isn't what I was saying, chubs." He shook his head in disgust.   
  
"Hell, you're as bad as the bloody poof."   
  
  
  
"Why you...!"   
  
  
  
Buffy finally looked up from the corner where she'd been standing   
  
silently for the last half-hour. "What did you mean?"   
  
  
  
Spike smiled grimly and lit another cigarette, letting a long trail of   
  
smoke out of his mouth. "If we can't go to the source, then we bring   
  
the source to us..." 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Purgatory   
  
Chapter: Two   
  
Rating: PG-16   
  
Pairing: Willow/Buffy, Willow/Tara   
  
Spoilers: Anything and everything is up for grabs   
  
Timeline: Before Adam   
  
Beta Readers: Scotty Welles   
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine quite yet.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A Week Later   
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't like this. It's taking too long."   
  
  
  
Tara nodded in agreement with Buffy. It had been a week now, and she   
  
was about to jump out of her skin with worry. If it had been her   
  
taken, Willow would've charged right into the underground compound, not   
  
really caring about what happened to her. "Buffy's right, the longer   
  
she's in there, the more chance of her being killed."   
  
  
  
Spike shook his head emphatically. "No. We've only got one shot at   
  
this and that's it."   
  
  
  
"Oh, and why's that? Afraid they might recapture the mighty William   
  
the Bloody again?"   
  
  
  
The vampire stared calmly at the nervous man pacing behind Buffy, his   
  
unruly black hair sticking in directions that defined gravity.   
  
"Actually, chubs, if the Initiative believes that holding Red puts   
  
their little group in danger of discovery, then they'll terminate her."   
  
  
  
  
  
She glanced up at the bleach blonde studying him for any sign of   
  
hostility. The steady frank stare that met her reassured her, for the   
  
moment. "Okay, so the direct assault approach is out," she admitted.   
  
"I take it you've got something better in mind?"   
  
  
  
He exhaled smoke and just smiled.   
  
  
  
It simultaneously reassured and annoyed her. "What's the deal? Why   
  
are we waiting?"   
  
  
  
"A friend of mine is doing some checking on our commando friends." He   
  
smirked with a dangerous promise. "I want to be prepared for when we   
  
make our move, and from what she says, we might know one or two of   
  
those soldiers."   
  
  
  
"Who?"   
  
  
  
"That is what she's finding out."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Her eyes cracked as wide as they would go with the swelling and   
  
bruising covering most of her face. Putting up a fight against   
  
iron-built soldiers hadn't been one of her smartest moves, but the fear   
  
had driven her to try and protect herself.   
  
  
  
The white cell was nightmarish to her, reminding her of that horrid   
  
movie she'd watched a few years back. The opposite wall was a mirror,   
  
a one-way she'd guessed, in order to observe her like some sort of   
  
mouse. Not the human being she was.   
  
  
  
Forcing her mind to focus on her surroundings, she methodically began   
  
to scan her cell for any weaknesses. Just as quickly she realized that   
  
there wasn't any. There were no vents, no cracks, no locks to pick.   
  
The walls were steel, painted white. There was no cot, no sink, not   
  
even a toilet. The door was also made of steel, reinforced with an   
  
electronic lock that just happened to be on the other side.   
  
  
  
Unconsciously, she rubbed her left wrist were Walsh had tattooed her   
  
number, 63. Her ex-favorite professor had looked startled when she'd   
  
started laughing, easily seeing the parallels. If Walsh had known   
  
about her heritage she hadn't shown any signs of it, making her   
  
increasingly uneasy with the now cold, scientific woman she was dealing   
  
with.   
  
  
  
Anger welled up in her pain-ridden body, giving her the strength to get   
  
to her feet. Limping weakly toward the mirror, it reflecting back her   
  
bloody, swollen, scarred body.   
  
  
  
She began to mutter under her breath, chanting a weakening spell.   
  
Her hand clenched tightly and slammed it into the mirror, a small   
  
crack appeared, spidering along the surface. Renewed with rage,   
  
she let it take control, pounding it with her fist again and again.   
  
Each web that appeared, making her more energetic.   
  
  
  
Blood gathered over her knuckles and fingers, the bones popping   
  
distantly. Zeroed in on nothing but getting to the bastard on the   
  
other side, she pulled back and punched once more with all of her   
  
power, sending slivers of glass flying everywhere.   
  
  
  
The small control room stared back at her, empty. Probably because of   
  
the alarm that had gone off earlier. Gathering her   
  
reserves she climbed into it, ignoring her body's protests. She smiled   
  
slightly as her eyes landed on the computer on the control panel. She   
  
may not be a Slayer, but she was a bad-assed hacker.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tara grabbed the last of the herbs as Spike hung up the phone. After   
  
the call came, he'd simply ordered them to get weapons. She'd never   
  
seen the gang move so fast, Xander and Buffy grabbing and passing out   
  
axes, swords, and crossbows.   
  
  
  
She noticed Giles standing against the counter without his glasses, a   
  
dark, neutral look accenting his normally open and friendly face.   
  
  
  
The bleached blonde vampire smiled openly at them. "It seems our   
  
friends are experiencing a slight computer problem," he drawled. "Now   
  
who do you suppose might be responsible for a thing like that?"   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She squatted at the end of the hall, waiting for the frantic group of   
  
soldiers to pass. The dark compound, now only lit by the few red   
  
emergency lights, made it easier for her to slide towards the far   
  
double doors. The electrical locks were totally dead, and she doubted   
  
that they would be getting anything to work anytime soon.   
  
  
  
Hell, even an experienced, trained hacker wouldn't be able to fix the   
  
damage she'd caused. Disarming everything that it controlled. Locks,   
  
lights, climate control, elevators, even the oxygen. Then she'd   
  
carefully purged the entire system, destroying all the programs. If   
  
that wasn't bad enough she'd changed the passwords, and encrypted the   
  
system. And right now, there were dozens of angry demons charging   
  
around, keeping the panicked soldiers busy. 'Hey, that's what you get   
  
for locking them up in the first place...'   
  
  
  
Limping as fast as her battered body would let her go, she slammed into   
  
the double doors. They flew open, leading into a cross-junction of two   
  
more corridors. Her eyes flew about, seeking an exit...   
  
  
  
"FREEZE!" yelled the soldier from her left. "You move and I'll blow   
  
your head off."   
  
  
  
She swallowed at sight of the large solider. Appearance-wise, he   
  
seemed harmless, but the way his hand was clenching the gun said   
  
otherwise.   
  
  
  
"Leave me alone and I won't hurt you," she growled softly.   
  
  
  
She winced at the harsh laughter that she got in response. Sighing,   
  
she focused her mind on the gun, if she could just get it away from him   
  
then things would be fine.   
  
  
  
He yelped as the gun flew into her outstretched hand. Her grip easily   
  
slid onto the handle, her finger clenching the trigger, raising it up   
  
to keep him back. His dismayed statement turned to humor at the image   
  
of her with it. Why didn't he seem worried that she had a gun and he   
  
didn't?   
  
  
  
"Drop it!" snapped a second voice, accompanied by the sound of a hammer   
  
cocking to her right. 'Oh, that's why.'   
  
  
  
She stepped back so that she could keep an eye on both men. Her mind   
  
dimly registering that the second man was someone she knew. She   
  
pointed the gun at Riley, nervously eyeing his gun. The reality of   
  
what was happening was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She   
  
dismissed the other man as he took off in the other direction.   
  
  
  
They were at a standoff, leaving her only two choices. Drop the gun   
  
and let them take her back to a slow and painful death. Or keep the   
  
gun and one of them would end up firing. More importantly, was she   
  
capable of taking a human life?   
  
  
  
Riley's finger began to tighten, leaving her with seconds to make a   
  
choice. She whimpered as the gunshot echoed through the installation.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Did you hear that?"   
  
  
  
Xander paled visibly. "It was a gunshot."   
  
  
  
Buffy tensed at the comment he was afraid to speak. Running down the   
  
hall toward the noise, she prayed silently that nothing bad had   
  
happened. Her eyes skimmed over the dimmed halls, desperately   
  
searching for the responsible party.   
  
  
  
Rounding the corner, a familiar shadow was standing over a body. She   
  
stared hard at the still form lying in a shallow puddle of blood. A   
  
shocked sadness surrounded her heart, concentrating only on the   
  
betrayal, but she pushed it away.   
  
  
  
"Willow..." She gently took the gun from her friend, letting it fall   
  
to the floor.   
  
  
  
The redhead shook slightly as her knees began to fail her.   
  
  
  
Moving swiftly, Buffy lifted her best friend into her arms, a storm of   
  
emotions flooding her mind.   
  
  
  
"Is she...?"   
  
  
  
Buffy glared at Anya for even suggesting that she was... 'No, not   
  
going there.' "We need to get her to the hospital. Now." She brushed   
  
past them, pausing next to Spike. "Do it."   
  
  
  
His only response was a slight nod, before disappearing down the hall.   
  
  
  
She pulled the bloodied body of her friend closer to her body, and   
  
hurried back up the hall, not trusting anyone else to take care of her.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tara wanted to hate Buffy, the natural intimacies that she and Willow   
  
had between them, the overprotective kinship that they felt for each   
  
other. She understood their relationship, but at times like this she   
  
also felt jealous of Buffy.   
  
  
  
When the Slayer had jumped into the car, telling her in that tight,   
  
strangled voice to get them to the hospital, she'd wanted to take her   
  
lover from her arms, and be the one protecting her from the memories.   
  
But the need for medical care, and the knowledge that in the coming   
  
weeks she'd be the one doing the holding and protecting, had made it   
  
easier for her to drive.   
  
  
  
Now, less than an hour after finding out that Buffy and Willow had   
  
power of attorney over each other, that calm seemed farther away. The   
  
potential for them to become more than friends was so obvious to her   
  
that she felt a real fear that she just might lose her lover.   
  
  
  
The others sat scattered around the waiting room, dirty and worn out.   
  
Spike, in particular, was looking especially battle-worn, but   
  
satisfied. They had effectively shut down the Initiative's operations.   
  
When Spike had first sashayed in, Buffy had stared him down until he   
  
had confirmed that it was over.   
  
  
  
Even she didn't feel any guilt over it. Those bastards had gone after   
  
one of their own, and now they were paying the price for that.   
  
  
  
"Why?"   
  
  
  
Spike kept his head bowed, in his station against the wall, snorting   
  
softly at her. "Simple. Red has the potential to be a master vampire;   
  
all she needs is the right sire. Just as soon as I get this bloody   
  
chip out of my head, that is."   
  
  
  
Xander glared at the fake blonde, looking as though he was about to   
  
pounce on the vampire. "If you even think about..."   
  
  
  
Tara stood, quieting the others as Buffy walked up.   
  
  
  
"They're moving her upstairs. The doctor wants to make sure there's no   
  
infection. He won't let us see her until tomorrow." The abnormally   
  
pale Slayer dropped her eyes to the floor.   
  
  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
  
  
"He said that she'd been dissected..." Buffy gulped sharply, hurrying   
  
towards the nearby restroom.   
  
  
  
Tara involuntarily sat back down. Emotions pouring through her body   
  
too rapidly to recognize. 'If they weren't already dead...'   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She mutely entered the dark room, perching in the hard chair next to   
  
the hospital bed. Doctor or no doctor, there was no way in hell that   
  
she was going to leave her friend's side. Not now, not ever again.   
  
She'd failed her, bringing the enemy into their lives and into her bed.   
  
Neglecting her friends. If she had walked her friend back to the   
  
dorm, instead of running off to meet Riley...   
  
  
  
It didn't matter now, though. All that mattered was her friend laying   
  
here, because she'd trusted the wrong person. 


End file.
